Eventually, we pulled off of the highway and onto the mile-long dirt road that lead to the ranch. I’d asked Tank to turn on all of the exterior lights when it got dark, so when my home came into view, Hal murmured, “Oh, wow.”
I knew exactly what made him say that. In addition to the lights on the house, barn, and stable, there was a huge, ancient oak tree in the wide, triangular space between those threebuildings. Over the years, I’d wrapped, draped, and woven all kinds of lights onto it, and the result was really beautiful. I called them my party lights, because I usually saved them for when I had the team over for some sort of celebration. In addition to strands of white lights, I’d layered on novelty lights shaped like hot air balloons, miniature lanterns, and many others. As a finishing touch, I’d hung colored glass bottles from the lower branches. Each was lit with a slender bulb that made it glow from within.
I parked beside the house, and Hal went straight to the tree when he climbed out of the truck. The lowest branches were eight to ten feet off the ground, and he raised his arm as he wandered beneath them, so his fingertips could graze the bottles. When I joined him, he said, “This is the most magical tree I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe you have something this amazing growing right in front of your house.”
“It’s definitely special. We can climb it when it’s light out, and I’ll show you the lookout I made for myself when I first moved here.”
“I’ve never climbed a tree before.”
“Really?”
That made him grin. “Why do you sound surprised? You know I grew up in an apartment in Los Angeles. The best I could have done was to try to shimmy up one of the palm trees next door, at the edge of the strip mall parking lot. They were so scrawny that they probably would have bent in half under my weight, so when I reached the top I’d be able to step off onto the pavement.”
I chuckled at that mental picture and told him, “We’re definitely climbing a tree while you’re here. In fact, I’ll try to give you as big a taste of country life as possible, but you’ll have to come back this summer for the full experience.”
“What can we do then that we can’t do now?”
“All kinds of things, like skinny dipping in the creek. It’s not quite warm enough yet. Also, I’ll make you the best corn on the cob you’ve ever had in your life, picked right before cooking it. And I’ll ruin you for tomatoes forever by giving you heirloom varieties that have been vine-ripened. The ones you buy at the market can’t hold a candle to them. I’ll also pick you mini sunflowers by the armful, and I’ll show you the ones I grow that are taller than either of us. You’ll have to come back in the fall to harvest and roast the sunflower seeds, which are one of my favorite snacks. The flower heads are as big as hubcaps, I kid you not.”
“That all sounds wonderful,” he said. “It’s a shame about the skinny dipping, though.”
“On the plus side, this is a great time of year to sunbathe naked, before it gets too hot out. I believe we had a conversation at some point about all the privacy out here on the ranch, and the freedom that comes with that.”
His grin was back. “I think I was talking about having sex outdoors, but we can definitely sunbathe, too.”
I helped him bring all of his things into the living room, and he looked around and exclaimed, “This is so nice! I love your artwork, and I can’t wait to curl up on that big couch with you and watch movies. It looks really cozy.”
Why had I been worried? This week was going to be amazing.
9
Hal
My first morning on the ranch, I woke up in a warm, comfortable bed with sunlight streaming through a gap in the plaid curtains. When I rolled over and rested a hand on the body beside me, I found it was covered with fur.
I raised a lid and discovered a basset hound stretched out where Ryder should be. “Good morning, Frank,” I muttered. “How’d you manage to get up here with those stubby little legs of yours?” The dog—whose full name, inexplicably, was Sir Francis Bacon—replied by smacking his tail against the quilt.
I gave him a pat before sitting up and looking around. There was a note on the nightstand, which said:Good morning, baby. I wanted to let you sleep in while I went to do my chores. There’s coffee and blueberry muffins in the kitchen, please help yourself (the muffins are inside the microwave to keep Sally from swiping them off the counter). I’ll be back before lunch, but if you want to come find me, I’ll either be in the stables or the paddock behind them. P.S. Tank had to head back into town bright and early this morning, so you have the house to yourself. Careful about running around naked, though. One of my dogs tends to lunge at any exposed dangly bits.
I murmured, “Good to know.” Then I tumbled out of bed and said good morning to three more dogs on my way to the bathroom. The only time I’d ever lived with a dog was when Embry adopted a little terrier from the animal shelter. Feeling outnumbered was another thing entirely.
All four dogs seemed fascinated by me, because I was something new in their world. They’d probably be just as interested in a new tennis ball. When they all tried to follow me into the bathroom, I had to turn around and pretend I wasn’t going in there after all. After they followed me back into the bedroom, I faked to the left, rushed back to the bathroom, and shut the door behind me. One of them started whining. That made me feel guilty, but all five of us would be a tight fit in this small space. Besides, I really didn’t want an audience while I used the toilet.
I’d showered the night before, so I was able to hurry through a quick version of my morning routine. Then I got dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt and went in search of Ryder.
All of the dogs followed me out the front door, with Cujo, the feisty black and tan chihuahua, right on my heels. He was so little that I was afraid I’d step on him, so I scooped him up and carried him. He didn’t like that at all, so he showed me his teeth while a growl rumbled in his throat. Ryder had assured me the night before that Cujo wasn’t actually a biter and just liked to act tough. I hoped he was right.
As if the dog parade wasn’t enough, we were soon joined by a donkey, two fluffy, black-and-white striped chickens, and a small goat. I said, “Jeff, I presume,” and the donkey shook his head, as if he was trying to deny it. “I know you’re a free-range burro, but did your friends escape from their enclosures? If so, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about that.”
Since they were following me, I decided the best plan of action was to continue on and find Ryder. I took a peek throughthe open doors of the long building to the left of the red barn, which proved to be a very nice stable. Twenty stall doors, ten on each side of a wide center aisle, were open. Most of them held a little wooden sign with a name on it.
When my entourage and I circled around behind the building, I discovered where all the horses had gone. There was a huge, grassy, fenced off field over to the left, which contained maybe ten or twelve horses of various sizes and colors. The area off to the right was comprised of several medium-sized, fenced enclosures, most of which held a single horse.
Between the field and the enclosures was a round paddock of some sort. It was ringed with a wooden fence and filled with some kind of light-colored sandy soil that was pitted with hoof marks. And there was Ryder, leading a huge, dark brown horse out of that paddock.
I muttered, “Holy fuckballs,” and froze in my tracks. I stopped so abruptly that Deogee—as in D-O-G, possibly because the brown mutt was too generic to name him anything else—bumped into my legs.
Ryder was always sexy, but it had been dialed up to mind-blowing levels. His cowboy hat, form-fitting tank top, jeans, and boots suited him perfectly and showed off his muscular, powerful body. The fact that his skin was glistening with sweat and smudged with dirt just added to his hotness, somehow.
